


Nightmares + Fevers + Paternal Care

by starrylizard



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Caretaking, Caring Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), Fever, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Angus Macgyver (Macgyver 2016), Hurt/Comfort, Jack Lives, Nightmares, Parental Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), Sleepwalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:06:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylizard/pseuds/starrylizard
Summary: Essentially, Mac is running a fever and Jack takes care of him.
Comments: 30
Kudos: 70





	Nightmares + Fevers + Paternal Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anguishmacgyver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anguishmacgyver/gifts), [impossiblepluto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/gifts).



> I don't state it specifically, but I see this as taking place some time after Mac takes the DMT in season 4. That is, Jack came back and he didn't die.  
> Written to fill a prompt from ImpossiblePluto and with ideas from AnguishMacgyver (and Team Alpaca).

The Californian sun was beating down, making Mac sweat under the bright blue skies above. Mac’s black ceremonial robes were hot and heavy over his shirt and tie, but his heart fluttered happily as he waited in line to receive his degree. He smiled at the student in line behind him, who reached up to straighten his cap with a wink.

Looking into the crowd, his breath caught at the sight of his mother as she beamed a happy smile, and waved in his direction and Mac waved back.

Soon he was next at the stairs, trying not to trip as he strode across the stage, collected the cylinder that contained his degree and then posed for a photo. He couldn’t help thinking how perfect it was.

The perfect day!

He looked back across the crowd to share the moment with his mother as he held the degree proudly in his hand, but she wasn’t there, her seat was a vacant hole amidst a mass of faceless people. Mac’s breath quickened.

“Mom?” he called in distress, as he ran from the stage; the search only more difficult once he was back on the ground. “Mom!”

A sudden gust of wind took his graduation cap and sent it flying into a nearby tree. His robes tangled around him, suffocated him in the humid heat. The roll containing his degree slipped from his fingers as he pulled at the suffocating fabric, still frantically searching.

“Mom! Come back!” he cried, but it came out a whisper as the faceless crowd swarmed in to crush against him like a wave as his robes squeezed ever tighter, crushing the breath from his lungs. “Mom!”

Mac surged up from the mattress, kicking madly at the sheets that were tangled around him. When he somehow got loose, he rolled from the bed and lay panting and shivering as the cool breeze from the air conditioning hit his overheated skin.

He didn’t recognise the room immediately. The dark shapes against the almost pitch-black room seemed to be mocking him as his brain as he tried to parse this reality against the seemingly perfect sunny day of his dreams. 

With the help of the mattress next to him, Mac pushed to his feet, moving before he knew where to, his legs wobbling with the effort as he tried to make sense of things.

O

Jack’s body kicked into action before his brain and he found himself sitting up in bed trying to determine what had woken him up. Someone was next to his bed, their breathing heavy and uneven and Jack snapped on the lamp even as he snatched his weapon off the nightstand.

“Mac, what the hell, man?” Jack started, swiftly followed by “Mac?” Concern immediately colouring his tone as he took in the younger man’s appearance and placed his gun back on the nightstand to free up his hands.

Mac looked like a tired kid, his soft sweat pants hiked up, hair askew and t-shirt rumpled. With the shiner darkening over his right eye, his face looked even paler than usual. He scrunched his eyes closed against the sudden light, reeling backward so hard that he most likely would have fallen if Jack hadn’t quickly scrambled out of bed and grabbed him by the wrist.

Taking in Mac’s tear-stained face, he carefully placed his other hand on Mac’s shoulder and dragged him a little closer.

“Hey Mac. What’s going on, bud?”

Mac blinked a little, swaying on his feet. “Mom?” he asked, and his voice hitched on the word, sounding broken, as his eyes roamed but didn’t appear to really take anything in.

“No Mac. It’s me, hoss. It’s Jack. You’re scaring me a little here; you even awake?” Jack gave Mac’s shoulder a rough little shake, concern bringing him to full alertness faster than the sound of gunfire in the dark. When the shake had no effect, he brought both hands up to cup Mac’s face, trying to force eye contact with the kid’s roaming eyes.

It took a few beats for Mac’s eyes to stop jerking around the room, and wasn’t that an incredibly disconcerting sight. Mac made several slow blinks and Jack could see the moment his pupils focussed on Jack’s face. The same moment Mac drew a sharp confused breath.

“Jack? Why are you here?” he asked, as he brought one hand up to grab onto Jack’s arm as if testing if it were real.

“Hey, hey. You’re safe, Mac. You’re at my apartment. You remember, we crashed here after the mission.”

Jack felt the heat coming off Mac’s skin through the palms of his hands and his fingertips touched Mac’s sweat damp hair where they curled around his head. That probably explained a lot, he thought.

Mac sucked in a deep breath as his eyebrows drew down in a furrowed thoughtful expression.

“Didn’t want to come in so late, all beaten up, and worry Bozer,” he said, but it came out a bit like a question.

“Exactly,” Jack agreed quietly. “Now we’re on the same page.”

The clock on Jack’s nightstand proclaimed in glowing red that it was 0340 hours. Meaning, they’d only stumbled, exhausted and barely functional, into the apartment about three hours ago. Jack’s place was easier when they were both too tired to do much more than strip their clothes and crash into bed.

Mac swayed again, blinking, and Jack steered him to his bed to sit down. He felt his knees crack as he crouched down to maintain eye contact.

Mac looked so lost. He stared at his hands where he twisted them in his lap.

“Hey bud. Just relax a minute and breathe.”

Mac nodded and swallowed, and Jack stood. He gave Mac’s shoulder a squeeze before making his way to the bathroom next door.

It didn’t take long for Jack to gather some paracetamol and a thermometer from the drug cabinet, wet a face cloth, and then divert to the kitchen for a glass of water, but apparently it was long enough for a barely awake Mac to fall back into a fitful slumber.

Mac had curled into one side of Jack’s bed, possibly his barely conscious mind had sought the warmth of the space Jack had recently vacated. Mac looked suddenly small and fragile, far younger than his years.

If it weren’t for the flush of fever on his skin, and the renewed twitching that he assumed was another nightmare, Jack could have thought Mac looked peaceful. And Jack felt the protective instinct that had bloomed in his chest back in Afghanistan and imprinted a much-needed purpose on his soul, kick up a notch.

Jack tried not to label these feelings, though he acknowledged that others around them called it paternal. Whatever the connection was, he would openly admit that having someone to lavish his over-protective concern on had saved him just as often as it saved Mac, buffering Jack’s heart from the dark places his mind could go.

“Hey, Mac,” Jack carefully brushed hair from the younger man’s forehead, using the touch to also gauge the ferocity of the fever that left Mac’s skin tacky with sweat. It felt on the high end of raging.

Mac mumbled something that was possibly meant to be words, but came out as a small groan.

“Can you open your eyes, take some meds for me?”

Mac trembled and stretched a little, then gasped awake, sitting up so quickly he would have clunked their heads together if Jack hadn’t reflexively sat back. Mac blinked a few times before his eyes settled on Jack.

“Jack?”

“Yup, still me.”

“We did this already?”

“Kinda,” Jack answered. “You’re running a fever, bud.”

“Oh!” Mac’s scrubbed his face and took the offered water and tablets, and swallowed them down before he seemed to register where he was. His eyes suddenly grew wide and he looked uncomfortable. “Um, Jack . . .?”

“You’re fine, bud.” He set the water bottle on the side table “We both need sleep and I think this is gonna work out for both of us. I won’t feel the need to check on ya.”

Jack could see Mac turning the idea over in his head. When Mac is sick, no matter that he’s not a kid, Jack hovers and at least this way Jack wouldn’t be up and down, half an ear out for Mac like a parent with a newborn. Jack gently pushed Mac back into the mattress. It said something how easy it was to do. Mac let himself be settled, if stiffly, still looking like a deer in headlights, as he watched Jack almost like he was looking for cues.

Jack took the opportunity to place the cloth across Mac’s forehead, ensuring Mac saw it coming. Mac flinched ever-so-slightly, but then closed his eyes and seemed to relax under the feeling of the cool cloth against his heated skin. Jack gently held the thermometer in Mac’s ear, his other hand on Mac’s shoulder in an attempt to ground him as they waited for the beep. When the beep sounded Mac’s eyes opened again, with a curious look to Jack.

“103.6, kiddo. That’s pretty high. Just sleep, hopefully the drugs do their thing.”

Mac huffed a resigned little sound, but closed his eyes again.

“Thanks Jack,” he muttered, the small frown pressed between his brows the only sign now of his discomfort, whether from the fever or the situation Jack wasn’t sure.

“Any time, hoss.” Jack’s voice was a gentle rumble as he moved his hand from Mac’s shoulder and carefully resisted touching Mac’s hot skin again to confirm the reading.

He set his watch alarm to vibrate in an hour, turned off the main light and then slid under the covers on the other side of his bed. So far Mac hadn’t tried to throw the covers over himself, which was for the best in terms of the fever.

Exhaustion hit Jack again like a tonne of bricks and he drifted off almost before he had time to worry further.

O

When Jack snapped awake once more, it wasn’t due to his alarm. He blinked in the semi-darkness produced by the glow of the hall light and listened; senses attuned for whatever had dragged him back to consciousness.

It didn’t take long.

Mac twisted in his sleep, then made a small, sad sound in the back of his throat. Jack rolled to face Mac as he reached a hand out to gently take his wrist, carefully assessing without waking him. Mac’s skin was still hotter than it should be, his pulse skittering erratically beneath Jack’s fingers.

Mac, though still clearly asleep, stilled at the small contact and his breathing seemed to hitch and then even out slightly when Jack rubbed his thumb across Mac’s hand.

“Hey, bud. You’re safe, just relax and get some sleep, yeah. I got this watch.” Jack rumbled the words of comfort in his calmest tone. The one that worked on horses and babies and panicking soldiers alike.

With a choked sigh, Mac rolled toward the comforting voice, bringing Jack’s arm with him, clutched tight in both his hands. So, Jack brought his other hand up, running it gently through Mac’s hair.

“That’s it. You’re safe,” Jack mumbled. “Just rest, hoss.”

The clock on the night stand indicated it’d been close to forty minutes since they’d last fallen asleep, so Jack carefully reached behind him to the nightstand for the thermometer, sliding it gently into Mac’s ear. Mac only twitched as the quiet beep alerted Jack to the reading. One hundred and three degrees. It was moving in the right direction.

With his watch trapped along with his arm in Mac’s hold, Jack just settled in on his side. He gently ruffled Mac’s hair with his free hand, avoiding the bruising on his face, and watched as Mac’s breathing steadied and settled, the rhythm hypnotic as it sent Jack back to sleep.

He was sure to wake up if Mac needed more from him. Jack was always on watch when it came to Mac. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The end


End file.
